


The Most Awkward Wednesday

by HyJackedYerFandom



Series: The Veiled Paths [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive!Dwalin, Possessive!Sirius, Possessive!Thorin, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pseudo Reincarnation, Toddler!Frodo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:16:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyJackedYerFandom/pseuds/HyJackedYerFandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins returns to the Shire a shade of his former self.  Under the care of two of his closest friends, he struggles with his inability to overcome his 'adventure'.  During this healing time, Erebor has come to his door with an urgent request.  When he, along with his young cousin and ward, and two other hobbits travel in the accompaniment of dwarves to those imposing gates a new darkness begins to lurk in the horizon of hope.  And the heavy burden of fate attempts to drown them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Awkward Wednesday

He supposed he should have been expecting it. Life had seemingly stood still in the Shire since he’d last tread upon the pathways to home. Oh, he was certain that crops had been taken care of, that the annual vegetable judging had gone swimmingly, that things had progressed. But when he’d returned home all those months ago, it was as if life had paused, and then begun again when he opened the door to Bag End.

Hamfast Gamgee had taken good care of his little hobbit hole in his absence, it was plain to see as he attempted to resettle within those much beloved walls. But he had lost that spark within himself, maybe his innocence had fled during that final battle at Erebor. His family, his friends could have come to irreparable harm, all of them had skirted far too close to death’s embrace for his liking. So while he was certainly glad to be home, he couldn’t help but feel shocked when he opened his eyes day after day to not see sleeping dwarves in front of him; to not see Fili and Kili’s mischievous grins flashing at him from around a corner; to not hear Dwalin’s hard, gruff voice echoing in his ear as he taught him how to hold a sword properly.

Bilbo Baggins was simply at a loss.

He turned away any visitors for weeks after his return to Bag End – even going so far as to ban the Sackville-Baggins’ from his property much to the satisfaction to those inhabiting the Shire. But there were two that he found he couldn’t turn away all together. They simply kept coming back, day after day, neither one saying a thing instead just sitting with him in his garden whenever he deigned to go outside.

Such as that very moment.

He’d come out into his garden, pulling weeds from around his prize winning tomatoes (with the exception of the time during his adventure of Erebor). The sun was shining down into the Shire like liquid gold, but Bilbo Baggins had seen enough of gold thus far in his life. It was his opinion that gold and the lust for it brought nothing but heartache and misery. Either way, he though as he pulled a vicious weed from the bed, he wanted nothing more gold at the moment.

“Good Morning, cousin.” Came a familiar drawl from behind him.

Bilbo sighed in long suffering noise before turning to face the interlopers disguised as his long time and closest of confidants.

Maddoc Gamgee stood leaning against his fencing, watching him with brilliant green eyes. The youngest brother of Hamfast Gamgee, Bilbo and Maddoc were easily fast friends. There was a spark of understanding in those vast depths, even as a gentle smile tugged at a surprisingly full mouth. Thick black curls shifted in the warm breezes, and while they weren’t ‘messy’ in the traditional sense, there was a sense of ‘just-rolled-out-of-bed’ around them to appear alluring. He wore a simple white shirt, and plain dark brown trousers. The youngest of the pair standing before him at just over 42 years of age, he was in the prime of his life.

A surprisingly thin, quiet young Hobbit, Maddoc was mostly at home with his medicinal herbs and plants. His salves and balms were in high demand among those in the Shire, and many hobbits turned to him for help with various injuries and illnesses. While he did tell people, rather openly, that he wasn’t a Healer he never turned anyone away if he could help them. 

The other hobbit, the one who had spoken, was Wilibald “Will” Took. His thick, dark brown hair was straight and shaggy around a broadly smiling face. An irascible trickster, Will was known for his love of fun and pranks, and quick wit. Gray eyes were constantly laughing, glittering with mischief and giddy anticipation of such mischief. He was tall for a hobbit, only an inch shorter than Bilbo himself. They were direct cousins, in fact, and had grown up together. With the addition of the unassuming Maddoc, the world had been theirs for the taking as young fauntlings.

“Good Morning, Bilbo,” came Maddoc’s softer voice. “How do you fare this day?”

Bilbo’s mouth pursed in suspicion, and even as he opened his mouth, he changed what he was going to say when a wince crossed the gentle face.

“I…am better than I expected.” Bilbo said hesitantly, reaching up and pushing his sandy colored hair away from his face.

Stark relief danced across emerald and pewter eyes, and they both smiled warmly at Bilbo. Had he really, truly been in such a temper that he’d made his closest friends so stressed? He was appalled to realize that yes, he had. His behavior had truly become unconscionable.

“Would you care for some tea?” Bilbo said softly, getting to his feet. “I do have some lovely oat cakes that are in need of liberating as well.”

Maddoc and Will glanced at one another, before turning with familiar and delighted smiles.

“We’d be delighted.”

~~~

By the end of elevensies, Will brought up his adventure.

“Did you accomplish whatever your adventure had lead you to?” Will asked, drinking his tea with a rather noisy slurp.

Maddoc rolled his eyes and sighed in defeat. It seemed that Will would never be a proper gentle-hobbit, no matter how hard he tried to teach him manners. Maddoc glanced at Bilbo, doing a shark double-take at the look on the fair haired hobbits face. It had gone pale and yet had a murky green cast to it. He frowned at the look of sick panic on the familiar face.

His own face looked like that, far too often of late. After the plaguing nightmares in the dark of night, nightmares that he could hardly remember come morning terrified him in the evenings without end. His face often had that look in the mirror first thing in the morning as soon as the sun touched his face. And Maddoc felt a commiseration well within his chest, even as his eyes stung with tears of empathic pain. He reached a hand out to steady the shaking one of Bilbo’s.

“Speak to us, Bilbo,” Maddoc said softly, feeling Will’s sharp gaze on his face. “Tell us what happened. You’ve been holed up within Bag End, and so very angry with the world outside that we know something must have happened.”

“You’re our oldest friend, Bilbo.” Will said.

“Let us help you shoulder this burden.” Maddoc continued.

And with that, the dam broke within him and Bilbo wept. Maddoc got to his feet and moved to embrace Bilbo, his own heart aching and heavy with his friend’s misery. Will poured more tea and listened with a keen ear, his silver eyes darkening as he heard the pain and anguish in that familiar voice. There was no way that either hobbit was going to let their oldest friend suffer alone needlessly.

It was during the next few days that Maddoc and Will had become almost permanent fixtures within Bag End. Bilbo would often wake up cushioned by Will or cuddled by Maddoc in the morning, which told him that he’d had nightmares during the night. He would go through bouts of numbness, and bouts of deep sadness that permeated everything he seemingly touched. Life was chaotic and almost foreign from day to day and he felt at a complete loss on how to find his balance.

He saw no improvement in his mood and actions after a week, and despaired but his friends told him that he had made great strides. He was often surly, short with his friends (not to mention outright rude and abrasive to everyone else) and stubborn in the simplest of things. Maddoc told him that he was doing wonderfully though, and never failed to praise him. Will was a blessed distraction to his dark moods, dragging him out to his garden or playing a simple game of chess (he lost spectacularly every time but it never failed to level him out in his darkest of moods).

It was Will that came up with the idea to write down his adventure with the 13 Dwarves. Bilbo had been hesitant in the undertaking of putting the whole journey down on parchment, too afraid that it would make his moods worse or even make it too real and leave him unable to cope. Maddoc simply patted his cheek and smiled that gentle, understanding smile.

“If it becomes too heavy, we will not leave you alone to cope. Try, that’s all we ask. Perhaps it might help you understand your own feelings and why you feel how you do now.” He said, and returned to making a poultice.

Watching him work made Bilbo think of Oin, and his healing skills. He had no doubt that the hobbit and dwarf would get an understanding ear regarding healing and medicinal aids.

And so Bilbo had sat before his desk, staring blankly at the bare parchment before him, his quill laying innocently beside the sheets. His mind had been rolling, a thick darkness of doubt and fear struggling to overtake his thoughts. But then he thought of Maddoc’s sweet smile and Will’s bark of laughter and realized that he could do this. He could at least try to do as they asked; what could it honestly hurt?

He never saw Maddoc come into the room with a cup of tea, and never saw Will watching him with worried yet relieved eyes. Bilbo had written like a man possessed, barely stopping to eat which worried his friends he knew. But the whole tale seemed to force its way out of him onto parchment. His friends never pressed hard for the telling, instead letting him set the pace on which to confide in him. It was a blessed relief since everyone else seemed to want him to tell them of his adventure, pressuring and pushing until he lost his already short temper.

Maddoc and Will helped to keep the visitor’s at a minimum as well, making certain that he had plenty of peace from nosy busy bodies and gawkers. ‘Mad’ Bilbo Baggins had been muttered a time or two, and Will had taken harsh exception to that. While Maddoc was the quiet strength, Will was by far their brash, loud protection. While he knew that the name hadn’t been muttered in his presence again, Bilbo knew that it was what those in the Shire called him.

Then, his life took an unintended detour, in the form on one tiny, 2 year old hobbit. 

Frodo Baggins was, in Bilbo’s opinion, the most adorable hobbit ever. Thick, dark brown with hints of red hair, in beautiful curls on his head, and the largest blue eyes Bilbo had ever seen. A bizarre boating accident had claimed the lives of Frodo’s parents, who were Bilbo’s cousins, their wills had state emphatically that they wanted Bilbo to be his guardian. 

Bilbo had found out later that immediately after the accident, Frodo had been sent to the Sackville-Baggins’ and into the clutches of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins (a more bitter and hateful hobbit Bilbo had never met). He had stayed with her for two weeks before being forced to give the fauntling to Bilbo. She had kicked up a huge, embarrassing fuss, saying that an unwed male hobbit had no business with a child and that he needed a female role model in his life.

In the end, her jealousy and greed had given her away once it became known that Frodo’s inheritance was in Bilbo’s hands. She had spat hateful words at Bilbo when he, Maddoc and Will had gone to retrieve the boy from her clutches.

Frodo watched everything in Bag End with cautious curiousity. It worried the three of them, the way he trailed after them like a pale, little ghost. He should have been outside playing, running around the shire chasing imaginary elves and rescuing dwarvish princesses. Or princes, Bilbo thought with a snort. He never threw a tantrum, simply watched everything they did with those huge blue eyes.

Maddoc had noticed the slight flinches that Frodo had given when one of them moved too fast or suddenly, and the normally docile hobbit had had to bite his lip until it bled to stop himself from marching down to Lobelia’s smial and exacting revenge. Instead, he often included the fauntling with a gentle smile and kind words into his herb gardens, teaching him what he could. Frodo had loved every minute of it, helping to pull weeds and gathering leaves and plants for Maddoc’s medicines.

Will had reverted to his inner fauntling and often Will and Frodo would play together – sometimes with the other hobbit toddlers, sometimes with just the two of them. It had taken a while for Frodo to become used to the idea that he was allowed to play, and it would take a moment or two while playing to watch and make certain that it was alright. He had the most infectious giggle that the three older hobbits delighted in wringing out of him in any way possible.

In the evenings, the four hobbits would sit before the fire, while Bilbo read to Frodo and Maddoc and Will played a game of chess or simply enjoyed the stories. Frodo would fight the urge to sleep, but eventually would slip into the land of nod with his thumb in his mouth and resting trustingly against Bilbo’s side. More often than not, Bilbo would awaken to find not one, or two other hobbits in bed with him, but three. Frodo often had tear stains on his chubby baby cheeks, and Bilbo knew the fauntling suffered nightmares. He didn’t complain about Maddoc or Will climbing into bed with him, as he knew that he still had his own nightmares and they sought to comfort him with his presence, as well as comforting Frodo with it.

Despite being all thumbs at this guardian business, Bilbo was slowly beginning to find his balance again. That, and the fact that Frodo’s obvious adoration of his Uncle Bilbo didn’t hurt either. Maddoc and Will still stayed within the halls of Bag End, and while rumor rang through the Shire about three male hobbits living together despite Maddoc and Will having their own smial to care for, they simply ignored the talk and focused on healing both Frodo and Bilbo. This was mostly from the Sackville-Baggins’ camp, however, and the Tooks and Gamgee’s were firm in their support of the strange trio. It made something within Frodo loosen and warm at the thought that he wasn’t expected to do something in return for their support and consideration.

It had been 5 months since Bilbo Baggins had returned to the Shire, as he had returned in the beginning of the fall season. Winter had been a chilly time, and the four Hobbits often cuddled up together under blankets and jumpers before the fire. It had been a quiet season, with friendly warmth and a sense of togetherness that Bilbo hadn’t felt for quite a while.

And then, just before spring arrived, there came a knock at the door. A familiar knock that sent Bilbo’s heart into his throat and made his palms sweat. With the ghosts of the beginning of his last adventure flashing before his eyes, Bilbo opened the door, and stared into whiskey brown eyes that he’d thought to never see again.

And Bilbo didn’t know if he should laugh or cry.

**Author's Note:**

> What the heck am I thinking? Starting another story when I have so many of them unfinished? I was inspired by watching The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug and thought 'Well...I already have a LOTR/HP cross over. I wonder if I could make a Hobbit/HP cross over work." And this little plot bunny was born. Hopefully, with the amount of stories I have going on at once, I won't be too overrun with life as well. Let me know what you think so far?


End file.
